Full Service Treatment
by Bigsciencybrain
Summary: Veronica takes Weevil up on his offer of a full service treatment. Spoilers for Pilot episode only.


**Title:** Full Service Treatment  
**Pairing:** Veronica/Weevil  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** None of it's mine. Sadly. But I'll take Weevil in a heartbeat if Rob Thomas decides he doesn't want him anymore.  
**Summary:** Veronica takes Weevil up on his offer of a full service treatment. Spoilers for Pilot episode only.

The Calculus made her do it.

At least that was the excuse Veronica used to explain why she was raking her fingers through her hair in an effort to tame it. The mussed look was so very white trash. She figured the hastily buttoned cardigan would be giveaway enough if she forgot to fix the mismatched buttons before walking through the door. Not that she ever forgot, but it was the deeply seated fear that she would that made the mental reminders pop up every five seconds.

She'd always imagined it happening with long hair. How it would tumble over white sheets and fluffy pillows and how her gorgeous long hair would glisten in the moment. None of her fantasies included short handfuls clutched tight in hands that were nearly pulling it out. Too rough and tangled for all those white sheets, but oddly appropriate for the backseat of a freshly chopped luxury sedan. She had to hand it to Lexus; they must've had exactly that kind of tumble in mind when they put in all those curves and angles. Places to put hands, feet, or a shoulder, in the attempt to find better leverage.

There was no reason for worry when she finally reached the front door and let herself in. Her father's bedroom door was closed and the light was off. The South Park movie was sitting on top of the television, there would be take-out in the fridge, and she knew she'd be up most of the night trying to find a lie that would sit still on her tongue long enough to tell it. He'd want to know why she hadn't come home for some father-daughter bonding and that left her in a jam.

Couldn't tell him it was because of the lie about her mother, not because it wasn't, but because she didn't want to play that card this early in the game. She couldn't tell him the truth because that involved Neptune's criminal element and the backseat of a Lexus.

She paused at his door just long enough to listen for snoring. Sometimes he let her think she'd gotten away with it long enough to get her guard down. When all she heard was silence, she hurried through her night's routine before settling down at her desk with her AP English reading assignment. It wasn't like she was actually going to get any sleep so she might as well read. Or pretend to read.

The music in her earphones was verging on optimistic, which was not part of the new Veronica Mars, and words blurred on the page, shaken out of focus by the humming of her skin. It didn't matter; the book and the desk lamp were mostly for show. Now she knew for sure she'd been drugged at Shelley's party because she would have remembered that.

Heat, skin, the taste of someone else's sweat on her lips, and the pressure. Confusing at first, not knowing which way to move or where to put her hands and forced to put her trust, and her body, into someone else's hands. As it turned out, someone else's very capable hands. Then again, maybe the villain from Shelley's party had been lousy in bed and her brain was doing her the favor of wiping out those memories before they could give her more intimacy issues than she already had.

She shook it off long enough to read another stanza of Pope before her skin reminded her that there had been lips involved. That was the reason for the hair pulling, to get her head away so he could press those lips against her neck along with teeth and tongue. Maybe it was because he liked to pull her hair; some boys never grew out of the schoolyard, they just got older.

"Veronica?"

"Huh?" Dragged from her stupor of not-reading, the book slipped away along with the trip down memory lane and she tugged out the ear buds.

"I'm sorry. I made you lose your place. It's a little late to be studying, are you alright?" The genuine concern in her father's tired voice doubled the heaping of guilt already weighing on her conscious.

"Yeah, but I've got this due on Friday. Look, I'm sorry about tonight. It took longer that I expected." What should have been a fast service headlight change she could walk away from in under fifteen minutes turned into exactly what he'd promised. Full service treatment.

"There's always tomorrow. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. And I'm almost done here so stop worrying and go back to bed." She kept her smile on until he closed the door behind him and let out a sigh of relief. One of these days he would realize she'd learned to con him; she just hoped it was later rather than sooner.

The good that had come of it was that he wouldn't see broken headlights on the LeBaron when he left in the morning and for what felt like too little time, she hadn't asked herself any of those burning questions. Her mind had been occupied with whether or not _ooo_ or _ahhh_ was the right response, twisting all her sentences around, and cringing when her voice came out breathier than usual. There were even a few words that got dropped completely amidst the _Ohs_ and _Don't stops_.

Even if she had intended to catch up on her reading, a very dead Alexander Pope didn't stand a chance at keeping her attention with the soundtrack of heavy breathing running in her head. Hers, his; he'd whispered her name soft and quiet against her skin. Not that it mattered. There was no relationship waiting to bud into a flower only to wilt and die sooner rather than later. Just two people in the backseat of a Lexus trying to forget everything wrong in their lives.

_Earlier That Night_

There were lights on inside the body shop and a familiar motorcycle still sitting outside when Veronica drove into the parking lot. It wasn't a place she deliberately visited in the daylight and most of Neptune would think she was crazy to end up there at night. Crazy was probably a step up from super slut and at least there was truth in the rumors of her insanity. She'd almost changed her mind when Weevil stepped out of the garage, wiping his hands on a cloth so dirty it couldn't possibly get anything clean.

He gave her a lazy smile that was half challenge and half dare. Without a single word spoken, she knew the silent question in that smirk. Did she have what it took to get out of the car and step into his world?

Stepping out was the easy part. A smile of her own and nodding toward the headlights was all it took. He waved her into the adjacent bay and disappeared long enough for her to reach for the taser. The night was colder than she remembered and inside the garage didn't change much; she rubbed her arms against goose bumps not due entirely to the temperature of the air.

"Didn't think you'd come," Weevil told her as he set down a pair of cardboard boxes. "You coulda waited 'til the sun was up, Mars."

"And risk someone seeing me while I'm getting the full service treatment?" It was meant to be a joke; she even made quote marks, but the look on his face left her questioning her delivery. She heard the clink of metal tools and got out of the car to watch, or at least poke around the tool bin. The unfriendly look faded from his eyes and the smooth smile was back before she could continue wondering what exactly about the joke had upset him.

"Might ruin that spotless reputation of yours. Couldn't ask you to lower yourself like that." He was back to playful again.

"Are you kidding? If my reputation's anything to go by then you have no idea what you're missing." She leaned forward a bit and tried a look that might or might not have been provocative. It was rewarded with a wide grin before he turned his attention back to replacing her headlight.

Watching someone else do it, she figured it was easy enough that she could have learned how to do it herself. It would have spared her a drive into the barrio and the late night chatting with the leader of the PCH. Then again, witty banter was a scarce commodity in a town of trust funds and bimbos, but she could always count on Weevil to at least bring the innuendo. He wasn't afraid of her and that counted for something in this world. Idly, she wondered what he was afraid of. The list of his phobias obviously didn't include needles or razor blades.

The question was rolling off her tongue before she could engage her brain. "What scares you, Weevil?"

"Why? You gonna put spiders in my helmet?"

"Of course not. I hate spiders." She shuddered at the thought of collecting eight-legged crawlies for the sake of a practical joke. "But you were mighty quick to get defensive. Are you afraid of someone getting to know you?"

"Is that what this is? Are you getting to know me, Veronica Mars?" He tipped his head to the side to look up at her. "I can think of a better way."

She almost forgot to answer him; watching his hands work and marveling at the deft twists of the tools in those fingers. Good hands, strong hands. Watching him caress those tools in an entirely professional manner was sent her brain down an entirely unprofessional road. He finished just as she was fighting to eradicate all the questions about whether or not he handled a woman the way he handled his tools. She really needed to keep the conversation going before things got out of hand. Getting to know him, that was the question.

"I'm interested…because I'm sitting here in a garage while you're fixing my headlights. And there's another question. Why the big show with Logan? Why fix my headlights at all? That wasn't part of the deal."

"Echolls was for my own enjoyment, V." He winked as he tossed the second broken headlight into a plastic bin. "And these? Reason you got them was because you were helping out my boys."

"I got them because Logan is an ass," she corrected lightly.

"Got that right." He shrugged and pulled another new headlight out of the box, working on making the connections. "'Bout done here, hop in and turn them on when I tell you so I can make sure they're pointed at the road."

Grateful for the chance to put some distance between her and those hands, she did as she was told and waited for him to signal that he was done aligning the headlights. If she'd been able to think of a way to stay in the car she would have, but that nagging little cricket started poking at her with his umbrella. She only had two twenties on her and she doubted that Weevil's uncle took checks.

"Let me pay you. For the parts at least. How much are they?" Digging through her bag, she found the money and looked back up. He was leaning against the driver's side door; arms folded where the window should have been.

"Don't worry about it."

"You're going to have to tell your uncle something about where those headlights went."

He grinned at her. "Headlight assemblies are forty a piece."

"Forty? Forty bucks for a headlight?" She choked out. "This is all I have with me so I'll have to owe you. But I will get you the rest tomorrow."

"V."

"Don't V me, just take the money and I'll get you the rest tomorrow. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

His fingers closed around hers, held her there just long enough to make her nervous before he pulled the bills out of her grip and tucked them into his pocket. He didn't move away, still leaning against her door and watching her. She found herself staring again, this time at his eyelashes.

"Have you ever tried mascara?" she blurted out, her brain obviously not on the same side as the part of her interested in staying alive. "I mean, you've got incredible eyelashes and with a little bit of mascara they'd be totally drag queen worthy. Not that you…can I strike that one from the record?"

"Do you even listen to what comes out of your mouth?"

"But sometimes it's really good. Sometimes I repeat the same phrase over and over because it was just that good."

"Really?"

"I'm off my game tonight, I know. It's gotta be the whole wrong side of town vibe throwing me off. And I don't know any mechanic lingo that isn't a euphemism for a sexual act that's illegal in half of the fifty states."

He laughed for real this time. Not the controlled chuckling for when people were watching or the snide snickering over an inside joke; a real, honest to goodness laugh of a human being finding genuine amusement in life. Strong fingers curled over the door as he stood up.

"I'm gonna get cleaned up. Got something you might be interested in seeing. But you can head out if you need to." His voice was casual and his hands were working at the dirty cloth again. There was more to those words than he was saying. A silent invitation, an offer extended, and the acknowledgement that what she needed and what she wanted might not be one and the same. No use wondering how he knew; it was decision time.

Good daughter Veronica, the rational one of the bunch, was shouting about driving away. Not quite so good daughter Veronica, who had stayed up most of the night before a Calculus test completely ignorant that her missing mother was the woman in question, wasn't in such a hurry. She wasn't particularly inclined to follow Good Veronica's preaching or get home to the father who was misguidedly trying to protect her with his lies.

Shoving Good Veronica into the background, she left the keys in the ignition should she decide to bolt and got out of the car. There was a sofa that looked as though it had been through two wars and countless Nickelodeon shows against the far wall. She took a seat, holding her breath in the hope that none of the filth would transfer to her jeans. The blue jumpsuit he wore peeled away to reveal a white tank top and jeans before it disappeared into a locker and once again her eyes were drawn to his hands as he lathered up his arms in the sink along the wall. She waited until he was nearly dry before asking any sarcastic questions, the last thing she wanted was to be washing dirty soap bubbles out of her hair.

"Is this what I'm supposed to see? Cause I've already seen plenty of you. Did you get a new tat?" She eyed him critically for a second before reaching out to turn his arm, squinting at the ornate letters inked down his forearm. "Ooo…these are interesting. Is it show and tell? Cause I didn't bring anything to show."

"Somehow I doubt that." The grin was nearly a leer. He jerked his thumb toward one of the cars in the garage. Hidden under a dark gray car cover that whispered as he lifted it up, this one was unusual and looked to be several income brackets out of his range. "Take a look."

"You're showing me a car."

"Not just any car, go ahead and look."

"What is it with men and cars?" She tried not to look impressed by the sheen of new car under the dim lights of the barely legal establishment.

"Backseats," he answered playfully before opening the side door to reveal the inside of the car.

She didn't quite manage to suppress the widening of her eyes as she looked in on perfect leather seats and she climbed in without further urging. Even the seats screamed luxury sedan, the smell of new carpet still crisp and fresh. She was probably sitting in one count of grand theft auto but that didn't detract from the experience of a fully customized Lexus. When he followed her, she swatted gently at his arm. "Don't get it dirty!"

"My clothes are clean. That's why we wear the outfits." He rolled his eyes as he shut the door and hit the button for ceiling lights. Settling back against the seat, he breathed the scent of new leather deep into his lungs and gave her a slightly delirious grin. "You can't tell me this isn't the best. Feel these seats."

"I am feeling them, I'm just not enjoying them as much as you are. Backseats? Not really my thing." She could tell he wasn't buying her cover and figured it had something to do with the fact that she was nearly sprawled over the seat.

"What is your thing, V?" Dark eyes focused on her, his face shadowed in the dim light. "What turns you on?"

"Is that a car metaphor? Because usually you at least try to hide the sex in the subtext and that wasn't in the least bit subtext."

"Maybe I'm curious about what I'm missing. With your reputation and all."

"Of course." She leaned back, letting one hand stroke the perfectly supple surface of the seat. "Well, that depends on who you talk to. Some will tell you that it's all about the whips and the chains. Another little bird might chirp about what a few shots will get you if you've got the liquor. I guess it just depends on my mood."

"And your mood right now…would be?"

She frowned at him, trying to decide if she was reading too much into that. "Is this another guy thing? Does leather turn you on? Or is it just the backseat."

"It's not a hard question, V. You got this look about you tonight. Losing a little bit of that Mars cool around the edges. What're you looking for?"

The truth was on the tip of her tongue. Her mother had come back to town and hadn't even told her. She'd been the hussy at the Camelot with Jake Kane that Veronica had spent half a night trying to get a picture of. Then there were the lies and the tangled web of the past. So many questions and she could barely think with all their clamoring.

"What makes you think I'm looking for something?"

"If that jackass Echolls' had broken your headlights last week, would you be here?"

"Would he have broken my headlights if I hadn't been helping you?" she countered.

"It's a school night, V, and you're here. You haven't looked at your watch once but even I know you should be home. Don't suppose I'll be getting a visit from the lights and sirens any time soon?"

"Dad's not the Sheriff anymore." She looked away, still a little uncomfortable saying it out loud.

"Doesn't mean he'd kill me any less if he knew you were here."

"You mean if he knew what I was doing." The words were heavy in her ears, strange and sudden in their meaning. Her heart picked up the pace in anticipation.

"Can't say we've broken any laws just yet. Night's young if you've got something in mind." There was that suggestive lifting of the eyebrow again, his lips turned up at one corner, and he wasn't quite able to hide the fact that he wasn't looking directly at her face. He seemed to have gotten closer and the proximity was distracting.

The words came tumbling out, slipping past her defenses amidst the confusion of trying to answer him. "I have so many questions and you're just giving me more and I don't have answers for any of them. Do you? Cause I really wish you did. Tell me what I'm looking for; tell me what I'm in the mood for because I don't know anymore. And please tell me to shut up because me talking right now is a really bad idea."

She saw the shift in his eyes and met him halfway. Those amazing hands tangled in her hair as he swallowed down her words, leaving her speechless against him. Good Veronica made one last stand, feebly protesting against the kissing that should not be happening and the bad cliché of backseat sex.

"Don't think about it," he murmured against her lips before yanking back on her hair to expose her neck.

"This…I'm not…" The feel of his hands on her skin, firm, demanding, the touch of a winning jockey handling a thoroughbred racehorse, only egged on the rebellion that her brain had started. In one last gasp before rationality drowned, she told herself it was because she was tired and lonely and they were both powerless against quality leather. It was because she didn't want to think about her parents or the Calculus homework she should be doing.

His skin was warm and electric beneath her fingers. The problem of where to put her hands was solved quickly, the answer being anywhere she could find bare skin. Shoulders, arms, sliding over his shaved head and down his neck. They broke apart long enough to slide and yank clothing up over heads and arms; always coming back to kissing each other breathless. She gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, as his lips moved down from her neck and headed for territory that was definitely new.

With a deft move, he maneuvered her onto his lap without breaking the contact between his mouth and her skin. It was a heady combination. His hands on her hips, guiding her to the right rhythm, while his tongue rasped over her right nipple until she thought she was going crazy.

"This is so wrong," she gasped, eyes closed and palms pressed flat against the ceiling just inches above her head.

He pulled away to watch, hands still driving the rocking of her hips. "Then tell me to stop."

"Don't stop. God, don't stop." She didn't know if the fact that it was wrong was actually what made it right or if she was simply a slave to the hormones that started pumping through her blood at the smell of leather and the touch of his hands.

She must have said the right thing. His arm wrapped around her back as he tipped and rolled her to the side. With her back against premium leather, she lifted her hips when he reached for the zipper of her jeans. He didn't seem to have any trouble stripping the denim away and was equally proficient in ridding her of the pale blue cotton underwear.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you've done this a few times." Suddenly she felt awkward in the backseat of a stolen car, naked as a jaybird and legs spread wide open with the leader of a motorcycle gang between them. Was she supposed to undress him now? The thought of trying to undo the buttons made her mouth go dry. What if she couldn't get her fingers to stop shaking?

He erased all awkwardness by pushing the virgin territory idea even further. Luckily, before she could ask him what he was doing, her voice got lost in the gasp resulting from his tongue doing something entirely new. It was all she could do to hold on and not ask how the hell he'd learned how to do whatever he was doing. She was completely incoherent by the time she felt his fingers slide into her and bucked against him involuntarily. This was definitely an _ooo_ moment and before she knew it, it had turned into an _ahh_ moment with her head thrown back and every muscle in her body beyond her control.

There was barely time to regain her breath before he was pulling her into his arms and lap, holding her against his bare chest. At some point he'd removed his own jeans but he didn't seem to be in a hurry. Forehead pressed against the back of the seat, she savored the feel of his breath on her shoulder and his hands skimming over her back. She didn't intend to open her eyes and look down at what she knew would be there.

Dark curls were soft and tickled her skin ever so slightly. She wrapped her fingers cautiously around the shaft of his cock and felt him tense beneath her. Deep breaths, she was supposed to be good at this thing. There was a moment of terror when she realized that he might be expecting her to return the oral favor and she had no idea what to do with that in her mouth. She moved her lips to his neck to buy some time, pressing kisses up to his ear while she ran her thumb lightly over the head of his cock.

"Whoa there, girl," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and swallowed down the sigh of relief. He wasn't expecting her to give him a blowjob, just to have sex. That, she might be able to handle. There didn't seem to be much too it other than moving her hips. Her cheeks were flushed with more adrenaline than embarrassment and she couldn't help her curiosity as he rolled on the condom. It didn't look any harder than the banana exercise they'd had in health class and she'd been pro at that.

The kiss was a surprise; she'd figured he'd want to get right to it. Instead he was back to teasing her with his tongue until her hips started rocking of their own accord. Once she was having trouble breathing again, he pulled her up against him and sucked her left nipple into his mouth. When he didn't seem to be making any move to get on with the sex, she caught his face in her hands and forced him to look at her.

"Are we going to do this?" she asked, only slightly afraid he was going to say no.

"Never knew you were so demanding, V." He grinned lazily up at her; his head back against the seat.

She felt his hands move to her hips and tried to relax. It wasn't like she was a virgin or anything. Seconds passed by like hours until she felt him pressing against her, her grip on his shoulders tightening involuntarily as she sunk down onto his cock. This was new. This was definitely new.

"God, V," he moaned, eyes half closed.

That seemed to be a good thing and she was only half listening to his murmured words anyway. Lilly would have known. She would have been able to explain it to her. That is, if Veronica would ever have had the nerve to tell Lilly she'd had sex with Eli Navarro. She pushed those thoughts away, the more immediate issue being the sex she was having. Sex without drugs or alcohol, just hormones and the backseat of a car.

They fell into an easy rhythm and she caught on quickly to the telltale signs in his breathing and on his face, learning as she went what he liked and what put him over the edge. He was gripping her as hard as she had held onto him, his fingers digging into her hips.

It was crazy, the whole thing was crazy. The world had jumped into its merry hand basket and gone mad. Knowing it was crazy didn't change any of the facts so she ignored the insanity as best she could. Watched his eyes and mouth open, the look on his face something that she had never seen on anyone before. It was gone too fast for her to memorize, leaving her only with the impression of amazing and beautiful. Then he was pulling her against him, holding her and stroking her hair as he nuzzled her neck.

She realized that the true awkwardness had just begun. How was she supposed to look him in the eye again? And how was she supposed to find her clothing and get them all back on when she barely remembered removing them. The second one proved to be the easier of the two.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen a bra?" she asked, glancing around elaborately. "It's blue. Matches the panties. And there's a little flower on the front. It's my favorite bra."

"To your left." He nodded in the general direction and let her pull away from him in search of her clothes. "Hand me my jeans if you find them."

"One pair of jeans coming up." She tossed the jeans at him and kept collecting her own clothing, struggling into them with as much modesty as she could manage considering the circumstances. It devolved into a tangle of limbs and bumped heads as they both attempted to dress in the limited amount of space. Once she pulled on her cardigan, she leaned back against the seat, rubbing the bump her head and grinning at him.

"Think you gave me a black eye, V."

"Was that when I was trying to put on my bra and you kept trying to take it off again?"

"Ungrateful. I was just trying to help," he protested.

"Right." She took a deep breath and eyed the door reluctantly. "I don't suppose that was worth a headlight?"  
Shaking his head, he was obviously trying not to laugh as he reached over to open the door. "Not gonna answer that."

"Come on. That had to be worth one headlight at least." She climbed out after him, not looking back because she didn't want to wince if they'd ruined the upholstery. The door closed and the car cover whispered back into place. Was that all it took to turn this into a dream?

"Look at me." His hands settled on either side of her and he leaned in, pressing her back against the car. He was still as warm and enticing as ever, smelling of sex and leather. "I'm not stupid, Veronica. Don't treat me like I am."

"Where did that come from?" His words startled her out of the trance threatening to engulf her.

"Once that sun comes up it'll be like this never happened. You know it, I know it. Don't insult me by pretending you give a damn about me."

He took his warmth away and left her spinning on her feet, staring after him as he started closing up shop. There was nothing coming to mind, no witty comebacks or counter attacks. No denying that he was right and come tomorrow it would be business as usual in both of their worlds. It stung more than she'd thought it would even though she'd known it couldn't really end any other way.

"That's the thing. The problem with fucking the leader of a motorcycle gang is that at the end of the day, he's still the leader of a motorcycle gang." She slammed the door of the LeBaron a little harder than was necessary.

He didn't answer and she didn't wait around to see if he would. More than an hour had passed since she'd left the office and her father was home waiting for his daughter to return. Waiting for the Good Veronica who studied hard and went to school and didn't take her clothes off for anyone. She figured the guilt would come sooner or later so she might as well get a head start on the self-flagellation. It was on the drive home that she realized what he'd said, his lips against her skin, muffling the word enough that she doubted her own ears.

Why would he call her Lilly?


End file.
